SOS: Mending Broken Hearts
by OnWithTheButter
Summary: · · · — — — · · · The first few times she saw him, he looked simply standoffish. Then he started to seem to be hiding something. Then she found the first person she could spill her heart to. · · · — — — · · · Every soul is worth saving. · · · — — — · · · Semi-coffee shop/human!AU IceSey
1. Chapter 1

Every afternoon, he was there. He had the same table in the corner, the other chair always left empty, every time right up beside the window, occasionally leaning up against it as he watched the outside world. He always had a laptop and headphones, but didn't always pay them attention. It seemed that no matter what time during the afternoon she came, he was there, constantly alone. She had been frequenting the quaint coffee shop since the say after her arrival, about two weeks ago, and he was still there, never smiling, barely speaking. She wondered how long he had been sitting there for hours, every single day. After four days, he had become 'the touch-me-not-ish blond boy with the freckles' in her mind.

She was just Michelle, a not-quite-sixteen stranger in a new country. When she moved from her native Seychelles, the schools were a week from summer vacation, no use in her trying to pick up until the next year. That was the first reason she noticed him, she had imagined all of the others her age to have extracurricular activities or something, not to be alone in a cafe as soon as the final bell rang. Did he have no friends? After school ended, he was still occupying that same space. She couldn't help but watch and wonder from afar. The few times that other young people were there, he always looked once and turned away to the window. '_Don't talk to me,_' his body seemed to say, '_Pretend you don't know who I am._'

She had been recommended to visit places like this, that maybe she'd make some friends before school started back. This little coffee shop seemed like a nice place, a small business owned by a middle-aged widow who genuinely loved having all the people buzzing around. It all seemed so very homey, you could probably get a wider selection at a gas station convenience store, but the baristas were all trained to perfection and everything was tailored to individuals, all without a gourmet price tag. It was easy to see why Angeline directed Michelle's attention here, and also why everyone else, including Mr. Ice, seemed to love it.

She'd made eye contact with the mystery boy only once, briefly, five days before. She had been speaking with a man who identified her as a new-comer among the frequenters of the shop. Once the introductions and small talk were over, the man returned to his table, and Michelle looked up to see the blond watching her blankly from his constant seat. She smiled at him and he immediately turned his head away, then stole a moment's glance back at her from the corner of his eye, almost as if in suspicion. Once he confirmed to himself that she was still looking, he set his entire attention on the phone in his hand, ignoring her all together. That was the only time she got a clear enough look at him to decide that his eyes did indeed seem dead, completely cold, with not even a twitch of his lips in response to her smile. Of course, she had her doubts that her own smile was anything more than awkward, fake.

The day after that, she had determined to be there before him. As soon as she finished her lunch, she left to try to find something out in the mystery she invented in a stranger. It was about a fifteen minute walk, and as she turned the corner onto the street of her destination, she immediately noticed the boy himself standing outside the little cafe with a taller man. The other man was much darker than the blond boy, wearing sunglasses. They stood close enough that one would infer that they were at least well acquainted. Michelle was too far away yet to eavesdrop, but she could still guess. The man looked old enough to be his father, their vastly differing appearances the only thing that made her believe he wasn't. As she approached with her leisurely pace, she picked up the end of their conversation: the older man saying, "Take care, kiddo." The boy appeared to lean toward him, hands shoved in his pockets, as the elder patted him on the back before going off on his own. After a half-hearted wave, Freckles turned to enter the coffee shop. Michelle doubted he even noticed her, or anyone else, being anywhere near. By the time she herself got to the door, he was at the counter, messenger bag over his shoulder. "The usual?" the young barista queried, followed by his simple nod and not-quite-verbal "Mmn." It was the closest she'd come to hearing his voice.

He was one but not the only reason she kept coming back to the same place. She had met a few others, although all older than her, and generally it gave her a place that she felt she belonged at, a little less like a misplaced foreigner. That her usual curiosity had found a subject there was a bonus. She loved people watching, trying to imagine the individual stories behind every face. It wasn't every day she came across a young person who came off as so entirely withdrawn from the world that he didn't even return the common, friendly smile. She also noticed that he was watching too. He's sit for minutes watching the couple at the door, then the family with small children, then the passers-by outside the windows. He never allowed any interaction though, turning away and pretending to occupy himself otherwise if anyone dared to cast their eyes on him.

She was beginning to think that she couldn't imagine a story or even a real personality for him that seemed to fit. Maybe they said curiosity killed the cat, but talking to him couldn't hurt, right? Besides, he did seem to be about her age, maybe he wasn't exactly what he seemed, and that would be step one in making friends in an entirely different land.

She got up, tea in hand, trying to put on her warmest face, and started across the room. After just a few steps, it was like a radar went off in his head, he looked up from his laptop with a start, and within a few seconds, his expression changed from slightly wide-eyed to furrowing his brow. He kept staring for some moments, then resolutely refocused his attention on the computer's screen, as if trying to convince himself that she wasn't really coming toward him or to discourage her.

She leant her arms down on the table, giving him a moment to acknowledge her. When he didn't so much as look at her, she started the conversation. "Hi. I'm Michelle, I just moved here. Please excuse my English and my accent."

There was a little bit of a glint in his eyes right before he looked up at her, the first life in him she'd seen. In his response, his voice surprised her, being soft and somewhat melodic, contrasted to his stone ice expressions. "Hey, excuse my English and accent too. I'm Egil."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I'll just go ahead and say it. I don't like Iceland's canon voice, so I pretend he has a voice that fits my headcanon. Deal with it.**

**Seychelles - Michelle  
Iceland - Egil (Egill, but…reasons)**

**This fic takes place in the same universe as my other one 'All Madmen are Not the Same', but by no means do you have to be familiar with the original to follow this one. I'll need to re-explain a lot in here anyway. But for those who do read it, you should know that this story takes place a little more than two years prior.**


	2. Chapter 2

Egil really was a lonely boy. It wasn't that he didn't have friends, but he felt like a cling-on to them, useless and holding them back. He was too quiet, too irritable, too different. Both of his parents were long dead, he never quite warmed up to the aunt and uncle who had adopted him, the cousin he grew up with was on the other side of the city now, and his relationship with his older brother was more than strained, it was completely broken. At school, he was the skinny, pale nerd with funny colored eyes and weird accent. Generally. There were those that liked him or at least were nice to him, but since when is high school fun for anyone?

He didn't like going home again. His brother's mood was on a pendulum anyhow, and in his mind, no one wanted two temperamental young people that close together. Besides, prior to two summers ago, the two of them had been separated for years, nearly half of Egil's life, and even since, they barely knew each other. During those years, no one spoke of his missing sibling, it was too hard. Now it was still too hard, to make an attempt to bridge the void between them that is. He knew Sigurd wanted to, but there were too many tears, too many misunderstandings, too many fragments of a harsh past. He had a close mentor in a history teacher, but he didn't want to steal all of his time and attention when the man had his own children to love more. Thus he'd become accustomed to secluding, he made himself a place of his own in the public setting of a cafe, where he would just be one in a crowd, a place to let go and delve into his own world.

At least people are polite enough not to ask why a schoolkid was always there. He was aware it made him stand out a little, but that was fine, as long as they left him to himself. He also had the advantage of knowing exactly who were regulars, who weren't, and who were new altogether. He knew first-off that the girl with the dark hair in ribbons was one of those totally new people. She looked disoriented. The other thing he knew was that he had never seen here before in his life, and in this part of the city, that was strange. You see, there are advantages to a black screen. Turn it a certain way and appear to be occupied and it serves as a perfect reflection of what goes on behind one's back. He used it all the time to watch people. He knew how it felt to be stared at by a stranger, so he figured out how to stare at strangers without their knowledge. The girl must have recently moved here, he quickly decided, then turned his observations elsewhere. It was only when he noticed her constantly showing up every day that he gave her a second thought. She didn't stay for hours like he did, so he didn't think she had similar motives. Maybe it was all just because she was new, she was trying to make acquaintances with the locals. He amused himself thinking that she'd have better luck meeting other their age by hanging around the sports fields or even the chain coffeehouse, not here. Oh well, her loss.

He never expected her to boldly barge into his bubble. But immediately, she confirmed his original idea: "_…I just moved here._" He found it amusing to mirror her sudden introduction.

"Hey, excuse my English and accent too. I'm Egil."

She had pulled around the other chair and sat beside him, making it apparent she intended to get to know him. He'd rather amuse a silly girl than risk confronting her. "So where are you from?" she asked. "I'm from the Seychelles islands."

"Norway, but I've lived here half my life."

"And you've still got an accent?"

"We've kept speaking Danish at home."

"Danish? But…you said Norway."

"It's a very long story." He was avoiding eye contact, his expression remained as dull as ever.

"Oh, okay…" She shifted – maybe nervous? – before placing her forearms on the table. "Will you be a junior next year in school? I don't really know anyone besides my cousin's friends, who are all way older."

"Yeah." He had nothing more to say to her.

"What are you like?"

He just shrugged.

"You can talk to me," she half-giggled, "I don't bite."

"There's nothing worth saying."

"Of course, there is. I'll be your friend. So, like…I'm an only child. I'm living with my second cousin while I'm here." He stopped, almost like her breath hitched for a moment. "What's your home like?"

He really found it unnecessary to explain this to her, it was far too abnormal, with too much past to go along with it. "I have an older brother. He's five years older than me, I don't really talk to him. All I do is look after him a little, I guess."

"Does he need looked after?"

"He's a stubborn idiot. He doesn't like to deal with people, and since I'm his baby brother, he'll listen to me if I tell him he needs to take his medications or stuff like that."

"I guess that 'not liking people' runs in the family?"

That evoked a puzzled grimace and a jerky glance at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not exactly being very sociable."

He took his time to form a response. "I…I didn't mean to be like that!" Resolutely, he spun around to face her. "Start over. I'm Egil, and I suffer from chronic mild depression." He held his hand out for her to shake. "My life is chaotic and it's really too complicated to talk about, but if a friend is what you want, I can try. My interests are history, geology and tv."

She grinned as they shook hands, both amused and taken aback by his strange attempt to rewrite her impression of her.

· · · — — — · · ·

_"Hey, Freckles. I'd like to talk to you after class, okay?"_

_Egil looked up from the notebook he was doodling to make a face intended to ask the teacher whether he was referring to him, accompanied by a finger pointed at himself. The man nodded in affirmation. It was Egil's favorite class and he was, up to that moment, very sure he was the best student in it. The request to speak with him kept him distracted all throughout the rest of the class. It seemed like an eternity before the bell rang and everyone else rushed to get out the door. He waited for the room to be deserted before he got up to walk to the teacher's desk._

_"I have a name, you know." He stood with his hands in his pockets, devoid of expression. He didn't wait for a response. "Egil, it is."_

_The teacher chuckled. That was his signature, he was always cheerful with the students, known for the one who knew them best and tried to keep up-to-date with them. "Right, Egil. Don't worry, you're doing excellent."_

_He smirked briefly and crossed his arms. "Thank you, Mr. Adnan."_

_"I know you probably want to get going for lunch, so I'll make it quick. At the beginning of the year, your teachers kept bragging to me about how enthusiastic you were for the subject, and they were right…for the first few months. In the last few weeks, you've seemed distant and, frankly, it's like you're not even here. You still do well, but it's not the same." He stopped to watch his student's skeptical and baffled face. "If you need to talk to someone, kiddo, I'll always be here for you." After that, the tall, dark man stood up to leave, fully aware of the wide, violet eyes locked on him. As he went to open the door, he added one more thing. "Sadik. I have a name, too, and you can call me that if you'd like."_

_Over a week went by after the short chat. It was a Thursday, after class, Egil had left for lunch like any other day, only to impulsive take off in a search for the teacher minutes later. It wasn't hard to track the man down._

_"Yo!" Sadik greeted as soon as he came through the door after receiving word that a student was looking for him._

_Egil would only stare at the ground and speak quietly. "I wanted to take up your offer…you know, to be someone to talk to?"_

_"Oh! Sure, c'mon." Sadik waved the boy after him to return to the deserted classroom, keeping silent until they both were seated. "What's up?" He folded his hands in his lap, trying to appear both genuinely interested yet completely nonjudgmental. This had always been the deciding factor for his choice of career. He wanted to be that adult that kids weren't afraid to reach out to._

_"I…" The blond boy was focusing everywhere but on the man's face. "You know I'm an orphan, right?"_

_"Okay." Sadik hadn't known it, but followed along anyway._

_"To make a long story short, my father was abusive, my mother committed suicide, and my father…he was killed right after that. My brother…they took him, they put him in an asylum. My aunt and uncle got me, I was eight."_

_Sadik was noting how detached the boy sounded, while wearing a heartbroken expression._

_"We moved away, they wanted to give me a fresh start. I recovered from the abuse. I grew up with my cousin in my brother's place. My real brother's come back to us, he's an adult now, you know, and his mental health is somewhat stable. But the cousin I grew with instead, now he's an adult too, and he's gone off to college and left me at home with a stranger from a past I wanted to forget."_

_Sadik took the pause as a prompt to make his own comments. "Have you talked to your aunt and uncle? Or have you just been bottling up what you feel?"_

_The boy's eyes made a sharp turn and fixed on him. "He's my brother. Aren't I supposed to want or try to know him? He's as much a victim as I am, and he does actually care about trying to fix what we lost between us. I just…don't. I…also, I never felt remorse for losing them…my father's death, or being separated from my brother. There's something wrong with that."_

_"Or not. You were a kid, you probably couldn't handle it, so you shut it out."_

_Egil didn't respond, eyes morosely scanning the floor, then the wall, with its posters and maps. Sadik started to see there not just a quiet boy who loved history, but a boy who poured himself entirely into his interests to fill a hole left by a broken family life._

_"Look, I don't want to see you hurt, but this isn't really my niche. I'll talk to someone to see about finding a therapist or something, okay? Does that sound okay?"_

_Egil blankly replied without looking up, "But I have a therapist… Well, I haven't seen her in over a year because I was okay."_

_"That's a start. In the meantime," he nearly bit his lip, but then decided to throw it out, feeling the boy would love to at least see a normal family, that it wasn't perfect, or something, "would you like to come hang out with my wife and I? I warn you, we have a seven-year-old, if you don't like kids…"_

_Egil just nodded, an unclear answer. After a silence, Sadik looked up at the clock and started to stand. Taking the clue, Egil stood as well, and before the man could say goodbye, the boy's platinum head awkwardly crashed into him, as if some kind of a grateful gesture, the closest thing to affection he was able to give. Sadik halfway wrapped an arm around his skinny frame, unsure of how exactly to return such a gesture. Egil was quick to backtrack away, before stopping and catching his eye contact._

_"Tell me when it's a good time to come over." He picked up a random paper and pen from the desk and scribbled a few numbers on it._

Less that a month after he had chanced to open up a little, Egil was being treated for depression. He didn't forget the man who noticed and called him out for not being himself, then allowed him to talk without fear. And five months later, even after the last bell of the grade rang and summer break began, he took every Thursday evening to visit the man and his family, for a little bit, to play pretend. He didn't expect to meet at the beginning of that summer another broken heart who would also stick by him no matter what.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. I really don't want to go into a depth of Sigurd/Norway/Egil's older brother. He's the main character of my fic 'All Madmen are Not the Same' if you're interested C; (same universe, like I said).**

**Eeeehh…I have nothing to say. Enjoy~**


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